She wrote:
Let’s observe for the next 24h. If there’s another issue, let’s move it to the Conservation Lab while we figure out the cause. Better safe than sorry.
There’d be no other hiccup. At least not yet.
Chapter 21
Good for It
After endless mission prep and with nearly nightly texts exchanged with Penelope, the day of “Skye, the delivery girl” had arrived. They’d gone over the plan sometimes more intently than the actual heist, and yet, Lucia still had a small pit gnawing in her stomach, like they’d forgotten something. Paranoia, she told herself.
Jules honked. “Watch it, asshole!”
“Maybe don’t draw that much attention to us,” Skye snapped.
“Tense much?” Lucia asked. “She’s acting like a regular Atlanta driver.”
Skye glared at her before averting her gaze to look outside the window.
At least Lucia would get to stay in the van with Jules.
This time.
She preferred not to think about her role during the ball this coming weekend.
Francesca had texted her all morning, and Lucia had idly wondered if she was blowing up Skye’s phone as well.
Ten minutes later, they parked near the Meridian, close enough for Jules’s tech to provide a live feed from Skye’s glasses and microphone.
“You remember where you’re going? Don’t forget to—”
“I’m not brain-dead, Gracie.” Skye grabbed the soft-sided artwork carrier—flat, padded, discreet—and exited the van without another word, slamming the door shut.
“You don’t have to let her treat you like that,” Jules said a moment later.
“I know.” It wasn’t that Lucia enjoyed playing Skye’s verbal punching bag, but it wasn’t all that bad. It didn’t cut her or take up a ton of her mental space. It was mostly just tedious.
To be fair, not all their interactions were like that, and whenever things became strained again, they’d ignore each other. But recently, it had turned more volatile, and Lucia still hadn’t figured out why they were back to that.
A part of her almost feared something was wrong with Skye, and instead of talking about it or asking for help, she lashed out.
Recently, though, Lucia worried that she was enabling such behavior, given she never pushed back or confronted people in such situations. Maybe it would be kinder—to herself and others—to speak up.
“We’re up. Here you go.” Jules shifted so Lucia could watch along.
Skye made it through the front door and to the reception area. She signed in under the cover identity Jules had established, and after what seemed like forever, they pointed her toward the Conservation wing corridor.
“Thought you messed up there for a second, Jules,” Skye mumbled.
“Hush. Don’t talk,” Jules hissed.
“Ma’am. Wait, can you wait a second?” A voice called.
Skye halted and shifted. A young man was rushing toward her.
“Yes”—Skye’s gaze drifted to his name tag—“Larry? Can I help you?” she asked.
Larry chuckled. “I was going to ask you that. Do you need any help with this? Can I accompany you to the lab? I’m heading that way anyway.”
